


A Knott In Miss Anatasha's Heart

by LaCoronada



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29973480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaCoronada/pseuds/LaCoronada
Summary: Draco and Theo compete against each other in a wager for their heart's desire. The task? Get Pansy's niece to fall in love with Theodore's cousin.
Relationships: Anatasha and Jacob
Kudos: 1





	A Knott In Miss Anatasha's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anatasha Blakely](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anatasha+Blakely).



Parent’s Weekend was, by far, one of the stupidest ideas Hogwarts came up with to encourage harmony and familiarity amongst Wizarding and Muggle-Born families. It was also the most effective, Draco had to admit.  
Every year, towards the end of the fall semester and inconveniently right before Winter Break, he would witness the Muggle parents (and siblings, if they came) arrive in major uncertainty, large amounts of intrigue, some enchanted, and even at times-hostility. As the Potions Professor, Draco had the sincere displeasure and honorable obligation to tour the parents around the Dungeons and Lower Wing of the castle. “It’s understood that dungeons have a bad reputation for torture or imprisonment in the muggle world, but I assure you, here they carry multiple purposes. For example, other than use of a classroom, the East Dungeon annually serves as an Activity Hall during the Winter Solstice’s Full Moon. Its underground location is prime for loud -“ 

“-MUM, is that a floating candle?!”

“Yes, dear. Pay attention, now,” the mother hushed. 

“Mum! It’s floating!” 

“Yes, Arie, good. Now let's listen to Professor Maltoid.” 

“I don’t want to. He’s boring.” 

“Arie!”

“Professor Maleboy, is that your real hair?”

Draco received that question many a time. If not by children, then by underaged girls (and one boy) in a romantic attempt to begin an affair. Apparently, his hair color was uncommon in the muggle world and was described to him as “platinum ice blonde”. He kept a working, stoic face every time his hair gained attention so as to indirectly move the conversation forward. The only one who received even a flicker of true reaction was the little toddler whose curious, tiny but strong-gripping fist ended up pulling Malfoy’s locks when its mother was busy gawking at a flying hippogriff out the window. Draco pulled his head away, appalled, but one glance at the child’s expression, eyes fascinated with his hair -no, not his hair anymore, just him- he melted.  
Draco's facade actually dropped.  
Since it was a toddler, he excused himself. The little boy would never remember and if ever there was a human who deserved to be melted over, it was an innocent little boy who couldn’t even walk on his own yet. Draco had transferred custody of the muggles to the hands of Longbottom, who was excitedly walking them outside towards the green houses, rambling on about herbs and and asking questions about a Mary Joanna plant, when he heard it.  
Not it. Them. 

“Well, wasn’t that lovely.”

“And here I thought only women went through a physiological imperative to have children.”

Fuck.  
He turned around.  
Pansy Parkinson, clad in fashionable black and gold from head to toe with a straight edge haircut and winged eyes that could cut your face in half.  
Theodore Knott, dressed in the finest dark Emerald and Silver threads money could buy, accompanied by his natural brown flowing locks and male-poise gait that could stop any female -or sexually curious male- in their tracks. (Though Draco knew it more as Madame Faucé’s Thousand Dollar Hair Tonic and a secret passion for ballroom dance.)  
And here was Professor Malfoy. Dressed in professor robes he tried to burn on accident many times.  
He was going to hear about it. 

“You look like Snape,” Pansy started, “But without so much . . . grease and more pale.”

“You’re really living the life, eh Professor Maltoid? I can see why you ditched life in the Manor to come here,” Theo walked (prowled) around Draco’s Potions classroom, landing gingerly in his leather desk chair (replaced by Draco himself after successfully accidentally setting at least THAT on fire). Pansy sharply made her way over to sit atop the desk, “Professor Maleboy, is there any way I can make up for my failing essay? I promise I can attend detention as late as you want.”

“Professor Mal-toad.”  
“Professor Malfloyd”  
“Mackdoy”  
“Malfuck”  
“Malfucker”  
“Moylefoyle”

Draco sneered.  
Oh, a life without friends.  
“I wasn’t planning on seeing you both until the holidays. Bored? Pureblood inheritance life not living up to its excitement without me, I see,” he smirked and sat on one of the tables. 

“Oh please. You know I’ve been busy with my clothing line and Theo’s been . . . well, being Theo,” Theo gave a knowing smile, content as a cat licking cream, “We’re here on business.” 

“I’m not interested in modeling for 'Parkinson Man'.”

“Theo and Blaise are already signed on. I gave up on you months ago. It’s not about that.” 

“Then, what?”

And just like a cat licking cream, Theo licked his lips and announced it, “I have a wager.”

Draco stilled.  
But his heartbeat ran with quiet, thrilling excitement.  
This was it. 

“Really?”

“Yes. Or rather, Pansy does, for us.”

Draco slickly slid his hands in his pockets. “Well, Theodore. If you recall, there is only one prize I would accept to compete in our next wager. Or have you forgotten?” 

“Oh, I’ve not forgotten, Professor Mattoy.” Theo leaned back in his chair and swung his dragon hide shoes to rest on the desk, next to Pansy’s golden belt framed hips; a picture of luxury coupledom, if they ever fell in love.  
Wagers between Knott and Malfoy were taken seriously. ’Twas a tradition invented by Draco when they were six, the moment he bet Theodore couldn’t reach the highest apple in the apple tree at Malfoy Manor. Prizes were listed, as well as loser’s punishments, the purpose of each wager being that one of them would stop playing the game and whoever did- was the loser. Whoever kept going was declared King. Every year, said prizes and punishments became more and more grandiose, or riskier, one could say.  
If Draco could win this next wager, and receive the ultimate prize- the one and only thing he swear he wanted for life- then he would surrender the game a happy man, and give the title of King to Knott. Gladly. 

“What’s the wager?”

Theo looked up to Pansy.  
“Draco, dear, do you remember my cousin, Trixie? You met her once when we had you over for Christmas. We were seven and she was much older, in her twenties I believe, but she spent the whole evening babysitting us in the foyer. Do you remember?”

“Vaguely. Why?”

“She ran away with a Muggle to America and married by the time we were in first year.”

Draco’s brow lifted just slightly, “I’m assuming Matilda kept it under wraps considering the lack of uproar.”

“Obviously. My mother and Aunt Mary had her pronounced dead. Officially. However, it’s been ten years since the war and, with Aunt Mary dead and my mother's steadily declining sense of reality, well, let’s say I’ve . . . been making attempts to rekindle with any family members I have left. . .” 

It was not a subject they brought up. Pansy’s father was killed in The Battle of Hogwarts. Her mother became a recluse, refusing to acknowledge that the world around her had changed and lived for dressing up in money every morning and maintaining a tasteful home, though she no longer entertained and lived in a false reality; one where she only acknowledged Pansy to ask her if she had married yet or bore children. Every time the answer was no, her daughter was shown out of the house. Pansy was alone and very much craved a familial connection, but Theo, Blaise, and Draco knew not to pry for updates on her attempts, knowing full well she would run into cousins or aunts who’d spit in her, albeit beautiful, but ‘blood traitor’ face. 

“Anyway. I got in touch with Trixie. She was glad to hear from me and we’ve been chatting over Muggle cell phone here and there,” Pansy gave her old time lover a moment’s smile to communicate her happiness at the reconnection, and he in turn, displayed a supportive happy-for-you lift from the corner of his mouth.  
“Trixie had children with her muggle husband, Harold. I’m an aunt! So far, none of the children are magical, which is fine, but . . .”  
Draco had already started getting worried as to why Pansy had to bring up her cousin to explain their wager.  
“The eldest daughter was here, visiting Oxford University as a prospective student. She wanted to meet her fabulous magical Aunt, so she’s staying with me.  
Her name is Anatasha Blakely, from the States-”

“Pansy, as happy as I am for you, can you get to the point?”

Pansy smirks. “You or Theo must get her to fall in love with Theodore’s cousin, Jacob. By the end of the day. Whoever’s attempt manages to secure either a Yes to a date, or a kiss, wins.” 

This was the stupidest fucking bet he’d never heard of.  
And so long as he got what he wanted, he didn’t care. 

“Anatasha is waiting in the East Dungeon, expecting to be put through several muggle activities for Parents’ Weekend visitors. Jacob tagged along with Theo to borrow some books from the library and has no idea what’s going on.” 

“Wait, these two haven’t even met?”

Theo hopped up and made his way to Draco, “Nope. Never laid eyes on each other. Fear not, my cousin is a Knott. Jacob is fairly attractive and has plenty to work with. I know it’s very different from our other wagers, but Pansy decided that perhaps testing our emotional intelligence and skills with romance would be a sure fire way to finally crown one of us King. What do you say, Drake?”  
Theo placed his arm around the stoic Potions professor. “Ready to set the terms?”  
To hell with emotional intelligence. He would win with this if he has to Imperius the young girl. 

“No cheating. That includes bewitching her to say Yes or to kiss him.”  
Damn Pansy could always read his mind. 

“Okay. Terms. What do you want, Knott?”

Theo gathered his defenses, standing in front of Draco, man to man. If Draco was going to ask him to potentially risk one of his most meaningful friendships of his life, he too would ask for the impossible. “I want to properly and formally court Narcissa Malfoy.” 

Silence.  
Draco’s eyes flashed twice.  
Staring into the face of his oldest pal. His oldest, tomcat, man whore pal, ready to lunge at him. It was no secret to Draco that Theo held his mother in high esteem. Perhaps even a small crush. But to act on these feelings which clearly ran deeper than he imagined?  
Death.  
Until Theo said the magic words. 

“If you accept my prize condition, I will give you what you’ve been asking of me for two years,”  
Draco held his breath, willing his anger to subside just a moment longer, just until he heard it-  
“Hermione Granger’s exact location, as well as guaranteed places and times she will frequent, should you want to make it look like you discovered her on accident.” 

Draco exhaled fire.  
To hell with his father’s memory.  
Mum could look after herself. 

“I accept.”

**Author's Note:**

> Preview of Ch. 2
> 
> Anatasha Blakely was peeing herself.  
> Surely. Surely she was peeing herself.  
> One does not simply look up at the ceiling, witness one bashful, naked ghost woman giggling and running away from another ghost, male and swinging both his sword and his . . . ghostly parts at her, and not pee themselves. 
> 
> Though, she doesn’t quite feel liquid-y down there.  
> She checks.  
> Oh. Definitely not pee.  
> Anatasha Blakely just discovered she’s in fact, turned on by the idea of ghost sex in the middle of the ceiling. Great. 
> 
> “This is ridiculous,” she mutters to herself as she removes a Kleenex pack from her purse, ready to rectify the moist situation in her-


End file.
